


Rosary

by jardinsdeminuit



Series: Seven Deadly Sins [4]
Category: Diabolik Lovers
Genre: Branding, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jardinsdeminuit/pseuds/jardinsdeminuit
Summary: “Say, Bitch-chan. Since you have a taste for blood now...” Laito lifts my hand as high as he can, forcing me closer to him. He wraps his other arm around my shoulders and presses my face into his shoulder. The scent of his shirt fills my nose. “Why don't you try biting me?”(Whumptober Fic #4 / Laito Sakamaki / Is Something Burning?)
Relationships: Komori Yui/Sakamaki Laito, Sakamaki Laito/Reader
Series: Seven Deadly Sins [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029717
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Rosary

**Author's Note:**

> WHUMPTOBER 2020 CHALLENGE  
> I've decided to take part in Whumptober this year! Instead of filling all prompts, I'll be releasing seven short fics across the month, with #1-6 based on each Sakamaki brother and #7 on Yui. Please read the tags and be wary of violent/sexual content. Also, feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Fic #4 means we're already halfway through this challenge! Today's prompt was fire / branding, so I decided to do something a little different with everyone's best (*cough* worst) boi, Laito. Please read the tags! This one is a little graphic on the icky-injury front (at least, for me personally). Also, today I learned that a trivet is the name of the metal panstand that fits on top of a gas hob. And they say that fanfiction writing is a useless hobby that teaches you nothing. :')

“Bitch-chan!”

Laito's voice rings out across the kitchen, as high and smooth as butter. I glance over my shoulder as he approaches.

“What are you cooking? Smells good.” His embraces me from behind, arms snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. I try not to stiffen at his touch.

“Just some dinner.” The pork chop in the pan crackles away, the smell of melting fat making my stomach clench. I used to cook a lot before coming to this mansion. Nowadays, Reiji is the one who insists on making most of my meals, so it's not often I get to cook for myself or choose the meals I eat.

“They say red meat increases the size of your bust, don't they? Seafood, too,” he says with a giggle. “Perhaps I should ask one of the familiars to bring you back some fish next time they go shopping.”

As he talks, Laito slides his hands slowly from my waist up to my breasts. I pull away from him sharply with the excuse that the meat will burn if I don't keep my attention on it.

To my surprise, he lets me go and mutters, “Of course.”

As I reach into the pan and flip the meat, Laito clambers onto the counter and sits beside the hob, legs swinging like a little child. He watches me intently, as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

I don't say anything to him, though the longer he stares at me, the more uneasy I feel. I suspect he's here out of boredom. Unlike his brothers, who usually have their own activities to attend to and only come to me when they're thirsty or in the mood to push someone around, Laito has a habit of following me wherever I go in the mansion. It would be endearing if it didn't usually end badly.

When I've finished cooking, I turn off the flame and place the pork onto the plate of rice and vegetables I've prepared. Of course, Laito's green eyes follow my every movement.

“Would you like some, too?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “You know I only like sweet things.” He suddenly reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me towards him. “Like your blood. That's the sweetest food of all.”

Before I can protest, he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into him. My hip smacks painfully against the edge of the kitchen counter, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

“I can already smell the blood on you. Did you get cut somewhere?” With his other hand, Laito pulls down the material on my sleeve, revealing a pair of puncture marks an inch below my wrist. My heart jumps. I expect him to get angry, as he often does when he finds I've been bitten by his brothers, but this time, he just laughs. “I expected nothing less of you, Bitch-chan. You don't care who you get it from, do you?”

“It's not what you think,” I snap. I try to pull away from him, but he holds my wrist with a vice-like grip.

“Oh? Did you try to bite yourself? I never knew you enjoyed pain that much. You're quite kinky beneath that innocent facade, aren't you?”

I wonder if there's even a point to explaining myself anymore. Laito knows full well that when one of his siblings decides to pursue me for my blood, I have no way of defending myself. And yet he acts as if I approached them, got on my knees and offered myself up like a sacrificial lamb. In this case, it was Subaru who caught me as I was making my way back from the bathroom this morning. If Laito is able to tell that from the pattern of bite marks alone.

“Say, Bitch-chan. Since you have a taste for blood now...” Laito lifts my hand as high as he can, forcing me closer to him. He wraps his other arm around my shoulders and presses my face into his shoulder. The scent of his shirt fills my nose. “Why don't you try biting me?”

“I'd never do that,” I gasp. Just the thought of sinking my teeth into another's flesh makes my stomach turn.

Clicking his tongue, Laito says, “You're so cruel. And here I was, thinking that my curiosity was about to be sated. Come on, try it. Just one bite..”

As he leans forward and pushes my head against his neck, I dip my hand into my pocket. My fingers close around the silver rosary I always keep there. With a sudden rush of strength, I push myself off Laito, step back and raise it in my hand.

“Stay away from me,” I growl.

For a moment, Laito simply stares at the rosary. Then he throws back his head and laughs. “My, my. Still waving that thing around, are you?” Placing his hands on the surface, he slides to the floor and walks towards me slowly. I almost trip over myself backing away. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop shoving your religion in my face? It's revolting.”

With a muttered “Give that here”, he lunges forward and tries to snatch the rosary from my hand, but I hold on tight. In the end, he manages to pry it free and throws it onto the floor, the metal chain jingling against the tiles.

His fingers close around my wrist again, but instead of pulling me into him, he swings me around and shoves me front-first against the counter, hips pinning me in place. His arms wrap around my chest in an embrace mimicking a pair of lovers.

“I would love to slip inside your mind for just a few moments,” he whispers against my cheek, copper brushing my chin. “I want to know why, after all this time, you still believe that God can protect you.”

I grit my teeth. It's not often that Laito brings up the subject of my faith anymore. He seems fascinated by the fact I still cling to it despite everything I've been subjected to in this mansion, not realising that it's often the sole force pulling me through. I've often wondered whether his repulsion at my faith is his natural response as a demon, or whether he simply hates that it's the one part of me he'll never be able to break.

When I don't reply, he scoffs. “Say, Bitch-chan. How about I make you a deal. If you denounce your God right now, I'll leave you alone. I'll even overlook those bite marks on your wrist. How's that?”

I shake my head. If there's one thing I've vowed never to do, it's to abandon my faith, especially if it's just to please a monster like him.

“It's okay. You can say it quietly. There's no-one here but me.” As he whispers the last few words, Laito brings his mouth to my ear, so close that I can feel his lips brushing against the skin. It takes all my effort not to pull away.

Silence.

Realising I'm not going to say it, Laito giggles. “No? That's too bad. Although I suppose if you've been taught the same fairytale all your life, it'll take more than a moment of clarity to wipe it from your mind.” He pauses, and I feel his head turn. “Unless...”

He repositions me so that he can better hold me with one arm, reaches out his other hand and holds it over the hob, gauging the heat. Then he turns on the gas and light the ignition. The burner I'd been using to cook the pork bursts into blue flames.

“Laito, what are you doing?” I ask in a shaky voice.

“If you like your _God_ so much, why not pay tribute by leaving His mark into your body forever?”

I stare with horror at the black iron trivet resting on top of the hob. Sure enough, the metal that meets in the middle creates the shape of a cross. My heart jumps to my throat as I realise what Laito's intending to do.

“No!” I struggle against him, trying to break free, but he only laughs. It'd be easy to believe that with his average height and slim stature, Laito would be an easy opponent to fight off, but like all vampires, his strength far outmatches me. He seems to exert almost no effort in keeping me pinned against the counter, chuckling softly as he does so

“There's an easy way out, you know,” he purrs. “Denounce your God.”

For a moment, I entertain the thought of doing what he does. It'd be so easy – just a few words uttered out loud. But I know I'd never be able to forgive myself if I did. I'd spend the rest of my days knowing that all it took was a moment of weakness to throw that which I'd believed in all my life into the gutter.

Plus, this is Laito who's commanding me. Even if I obeyed, there's no telling he'd stick to his promise to leave me alone. In fact, he'd probably punish me further for giving in so easily.

I have no choice but to take what he's planning.

Once the fire has been on for about thirty seconds, Laito turns off the burner. “Well, Bitch-chan, go ahead. Touch it. Prove your devotion.”

My eyes fall on the hob to my right. I can feel the heat from here. In one last attempt to free myself, I throw my head back against Laito's head. It almost works – the back of my head connects with his chin, causing him to grunt with pain – but he quickly reclaims his grip on me.

Grabbing my wrist, he growls, “I told you to _touch it_ ,” and slams my palm down on the trivet.

To my surprise, the pain isn't immediate. My skin flushes from ice-cold to hot, as if my body is trying to work out what's happening to it. When the pain does come, it hits like a truck. I shudder against Laito, fighting to lift my hand, screaming and shuddering.

It feels like an eternity before he finally lets me go. I collapse against the floor by the counter. I don't want to look at my hand, but I have to force myself. A cross stretches the length of my palm, a sickening shade of red against my pale skin. In all my life, I've never known agony like this. My whole hand still feels like it's burning.

“That came out better than I thought!” Laito's voice sounds distant, hazy. The room has started to spin around me. All I can concentrate on is the mess of my hand.

Something cold splashes against my hand, making me jump. I realise that Laito has taken the dish cloth from the sink and wrung it out above me. The cold water should take some of the heat from my palm, but it only stings as it slaps against the burn.

“You should probably bandage that, Bitch-chan. Wouldn't want to get an infection, would you?” Laito laughs above me, and then I hear disappearing footsteps.

I don't look behind me to see if he's gone. I don't care anymore. A voice at the back of my mind tells me to take his advice and treat the wound before it's too late, but I can't move. The pain has me paralysed, bent over and trembling on the tiles.

Tiny white bubbles have begun to appear in the red marks. I'm not sure why, but I reach out with my hand and poke one of them with the tip of my finger. It feels solid, like the crispy fat on the edge of the pork I was preparing what feels like a lifetime ago now. The mental comparison makes me feel sick.

Somewhere behind me, a door closes. It shouldn't come as a surprise that Laito's been standing at the back of the kitchen, watching me. Perhaps he's grown bored of observing. Perhaps he wanted me to scream some more or curse his name. After all, what's the point of torturing someone if you're not going to be around for the aftermath?

Another rush of nausea makes me bend over my knees, and for a moment, I think I'm going to be sick. My shoulders convulse, and I accidentally brush my burnt hand against the edge of my skirt. Only then do the tears finally come. I collapse onto my side, weeping and shaking and clutching my wrist.

Something silver nearby catches my eyes. My rosary. Reaching out with my good hand, I pick it up and squeeze it to my chest. My eyelids feel heavy suddenly, a black haze folding in from the edges of my mind. If I'm going to pass out, I pray it's soon. I can't deal with the agony any longer. Someone will probably come and find me, lured by the scent of burning flesh, but I'll deal with that when it comes. For now, I just want to feel nothing.

The sound of my shallow breaths are the last thing I hear before the darkness takes me.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember turning on the tap in a hotel room once and the water came out boiling. I burnt my whole wrist and the back of my hand. No matter how much cold water I put on it, the pain wouldn't go away and I was crying for the best part of an hour. I injure myself a lot, but can't remember ever feeling anything more painful than that. F in the chat for Yui please.


End file.
